


Mob-a-long

by Arty11



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25074301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arty11/pseuds/Arty11
Summary: Just what is Hermione’s secret?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	Mob-a-long

Mob-a-long

Hermione shook the snow from her emerald green cape and made her way in to the meeting tent, stomping her thick winter boots and removing her Gryffindor red gloves and thick winter hat and scarf as she did so. She threw them onto the large pile growing by the entrance, groaning as they slid off onto the floor, but as she was running late she figured she could just Accio them from the pile later. It was too cold to be hanging around picking up wet capes and hats and gloves. It was bitter outside and she would much rather have been at home snuggled up in front the fire but had grudgingly ventured out for this meeting. She dutifully peered into the inner part of the tent, where thankfully it was much warmer thanks to some floating fires and a few heating charms. A friendly rag tag bunch of people sat round a big square table holding whispered conversations in small groups, random sheets of parchment in front of them, some with menacing photographs staring up at her, others with scribbled lists and sneaky photos. They all looked up almost as one as she pushed through the flaps making the door of the inner tent and welcomed her in various different ways, some with hellos, some with nods. She smiled to see so many friendly faces, happy to be surrounded by friends despite the sombre meeting she knew they were there for. 

‘Ah, Hermione, good. Glad you’re here’. The only one who spoke their greeting, Kingsley welcomed her in warmly and she quickly made her way to her usual seat round the table, squeezing Ron’s shoulder on the way past. He looked haggard and battle worn and gave her a wry smile in return. She could see the tiredness etched on his face, hopefully they’d get some sleep tonight as the cold was just too much to be dealing with but the look of hopefulness on Kingsley’s face told her otherwise. She had fully planned to be home in her bed as soon as possible and groaned at the thought she probably wouldn’t be.

‘Harry and Remus will be back soon then we can begin’ rumbled Kinglsey’s deep voice over the low level chatter that had resumed humming round the tent as she’d taken her seat. Hermione glanced round, Tonks was chatting to Ginny and Luna on the other side of the square table, a small secret smile on her face and Hermione warmed immediately guessing the reason. After all, she should. She caught Tonks’ eye and grinned at her as the other young lady blushed, her hair turning pink. Ginny and Luna noticed nothing of course but Luna raised a hand in hello. Further round were Bill and Fleur, also talking secretively between them. A couple of aurors, Binjo and Davies were sat next to them, slowly reviewing the intelligence before them and discussing theories in quick, hurried, whispered sentences. Ron leaned in closer to Hermione and whispered gently in her ear, stealing back her concentration. 

‘Why do we always meet before food? I do my best thinking on a full stomach. I mean, surely we could eat first then brainstorm how to catch these last ruffians?’

Hermione grinned at her friend and reaching into her pocket slid over a homemade flapjack. ‘I know you too well. That’s why I brought you food because it makes sitting next to you all the more bearable.’

Ron beamed and lent over to kiss her cheek before digging in readily. ‘Where do you find the time? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you had a house elf hidden somewhere in that secret house of yours. It’s not like you couldn’t afford it, the catches you’ve made recently’ he laughed, only just managing not to spit crumbs everywhere. 

‘Nonsense Ronald’ Hermione snapped quickly, blushing slightly. Luckily their attention was drawn away by the arrival of a very dirty and muddy Harry and Remus and the calls of greeting before Kingsley called the meeting to order. 

The Ministry, whilst slowly sorting themselves out, were still fighting suspicion, corruption, secrecy and general unease two years after the official end of the war. They were struggling to keep on top of general rule whilst also providing fair and just trials for those they had already caught. Azkaban, now deserted by the dementors who’d fled, was little more than a shell out at sea and the aurors were too short on the ground to police it fully. The decision had been made against Kingsley, the Minister for Magic’s wishes, to implement a bail type system so most of those caught had been charged a fortune to be released, their wands taken away and placed on house arrest. Of course, they all worked out quickly how to bend the terms of house arrest and had tentatively reformed around 18 months ago during the absolute carnage that ensued under one Gustavias Goyle. Not quite as dim as his son, he had a team of underground renegades who kept posting bail then skipping out on it. The former Order had been propositioned by the Minister, realising the Wizengamot’s error in just releasing all these criminals, to bring the escaped death eaters back under the Ministry’s control as a kind of unofficial side wing. He’d managed to slip through some legislation that gave them pretty much free reign, within the bounds of magical law. Some took it seriously full time like Harry and Ron, now graduated from  
Auror training and on a secret mission according to the Ministry. They mostly lived in the tented city although they made frequent stops at The Burrow and Shell Cottage which both remained under their Fidelius charms. Hermione had a full time Ministry job and a very public profile. Her commitment was less, but even then she was one of the more successful ‘bounty hunters’ for want of a better term. Kingsley has finally managed to stop the bail system after two years, and Azkaban was fully functioning with Grawp as its main escape deterrent and a bunch of newly trained prison guards. There were about 12 outstanding Death Eater names to find having whittled down from 40, Gustavias Goyle being one of them. This meeting was hopefully to discuss tracking him, and it seemed by the bright eyes and big grin of Harry he had some useful information at last. 

‘Thank God that’s over’ muttered Ron, dragging Hermione over towards the food tent as soon as the meeting had finished and they’d quickly retrieved their outerwear from the pile on the floor. The smells wafting out of the tent had Hermione’s nose in the air, sniffing in appreciation. Their missions set, they had about an hour before they set off to try and apprehend Goyle and Dolohov, both of whom intelligence would suggest were currently in the underground bunkers of Crabbe Manor. 

‘It was useful before tonight’s mission though’ she mused, wondering what Kreacher, Dobby and Winky had whipped up today in their cafeteria style tent. As soon as they’d set up camp the three elves had volunteered to leave Hogwarts and be the official caterers. Hermione still thought they were treated like slaves but no one could deny how happy they were. Kreacher ruled the kitchen where he and Winky worked. Dobby cleaned and did laundry then helped serve in the catering tent. Somehow, despite being in the middle of nowhere and limited equipment the three wayward, haphazard elves managed to care for them all and cook up a feast nearly every day. Keen to maintain as much normalcy as possible, the elves had decorated for Christmas, somehow procuring a string of fairy lights and several runs of tinsel and foil decorations that reminded Hermione of the garish decorations of her 80’s childhood.

“Ye-es, but when have our attacks ever gone properly to plan? That silver death eater particularly keeps slipping through our fingers- we don’t even know who he is. He’s not on the list”

Hermione blanched white a tiny bit as Ron went on, the memory of the slippery silver Death Eater giving her a little shiver. He was well recognised on the new battleground- the independent take downs always seemed to end in a big duel and he always seemed to escape and get away without actually getting involved. She had to hand it to him, his disguise was good as his identity remained a complete mystery and so far he had evaded capture. Just recently though he’d slipped up and she’d accidentally managed a hex on him but quick as a flash he’d gone. She’d paid for that one dearly afterwards. 

They reached the tent first and sat down as Dobby appeared at their elbows, wooly hat balanced precariously on his ears, and today wearing pink shorts, an AC/DC t-shirt and feather boa. 

‘Dobby, you have got to stop letting Luna dress you’ Ron chuckled, as Dobby put his hands on his hips and glared at Ron indignantly, his big eyes narrowing slightly at the tall red haired man, 

‘Master Ronald should stop making fun of Dobby. I is liking my new clothes Miss Luna got for me’ he squeaked angrily, as the lady in question drifted over having followed them out the meeting tent and come into the warm. The years had made her even more waif and spectre like and although Hermione knew she was walking, it really did look like Luna was floating as she came towards them. Dobby clicked his fingers and another chair pulled up to the table. 

‘I think you look charming Dobby’ Luna said serenely, sitting with them and glancing between Ron and Hermione. ‘Besides, he’s happy and surely it should be the wearer who’s opinion matters Ronald?’

Suitably chastised, Ronald blushed a deep red but continued to look at Luna with an odd, almost faraway look in his eyes. Hermione clocked it and stored that piece of information away for exploitation some other time. Luna herself was looking much like her normal character, a cross between seriously looking like nothing on this world fazed her and being off in her own little reality dreamland. Her long blonde hair was flowing down her back and she wore her usual vacant expression, although Hermione had learnt not to trust it. Luna was exceptionally perceptive and an absolute warrior on the battlefield although you’d never think it to look at her. Sharp, precise and incredibly fast she was one of their most skilled fighters/bounty hunter, yet she’d walk away from a skirmish discussing the shame of trampling some beautiful flowers whilst avoiding a killing curse from the person she’d inevitably captured. 

‘Today’s we be having cottage pie with carrots and peas and treacle pudding or we could possibly be makings some eggs?’ Dobby announced suddenly from behind her, hat wobbling and all upset over his clothes forgotten, making Hermione jump. 

‘Cottage pie and treacle pudding for me’ Ron said, patting his belly as he leaned back on his chair dangerously, to gasps all round. 

‘Mr Ron, don’t be swing...’ Dobby started exclaiming but was too late as an ominous creak sounded through the tent and the back two legs of the chair shattered, sending Ron sprawling onto the floor with a loud bang. Hermione burst into fits of giggles -Ron was told nearly every day not to swing on the chairs and finally one had given up on him. 

‘It’s not funny’ he grunted, rolling around and trying to get up from amidst the splintered remains of the chair, which were now stuck to his back from head to toe. He kept turning his head as if to try and see where they all were, reminding Hermione of a cat chasing it’s tail. 

‘Oh but it is’ Hermione spluttered. ‘You’re told every day not to swing on the chairs! I’ll take what’s on offer too please Dobby, and one for Harry and Ginny. They’ll be in in a minute’ 

Everyone shared knowing smiles as to where that pair had disappeared off to- until today Harry and Remus had been gone for a week. Hermione didn’t want to think about his and Ginny’s reunion too closely and wrinkled her nose as the thought popped into her head and she firmly shoved it back out again. 

Dobby grinned, saluted and waved following Luna’s added ‘and me please’ to their food order. Ron stood up and Hermione waved her wand over the chair to repair it, watching as the small splintered shards of wood flew though the air reforming the rickety old chair. All the furniture was mismatched, but Hermione kind of liked it. It felt homely, comforting. There was a school chair from Hogwarts which Luna was sat on now, a chintz armchair from Gryffindor she was sure McGonagall turned a blind eye to when she came in, a few from her parents kitchen she had donated when she’s cleared their house and a lurid pink oversized chair for Hagrid that Harry maintained had once been Slughorn or contained Slughorn or something to do with Slughorn. She hadn’t paid that much attention. 

Ron sat down again gingerly, as if the chair would fall apart underneath him again. In all likliehood it probably would, Ron had grown into a fairly burly, tall young man. Her mum would have described him as strapping. He already sat with his legs almost tucked up round his ears it seemed, but gone was the gangly awkwardness of his teenage years. He’d really matured into himself both physically and emotionally and was proving quite the strategist for these take downs. Hermione was so proud of him, he’d really grown up lately. She put her head on his shoulder whilst they were waiting for their food, drawing a calming comfort from his warmth. 

‘Did it finally give out on him?’ asked a new voice and Hermione jumped up to hug a weary Harry. After the main war Hermione had taken some time away heading back to Hogwarts, but Harry had thrown himself into rounding up every last death eater alongside Auror training. As the new wave rose under Goyle senior, he fully immersed himself back in the fight, although the positives of being the stronger side helped all of them. A particularly lusted after target, having been the one to kill their master, his battles were often fiercer than the rest and he couldn’t stroll down Diagon Alley like most of the rest of them, but he seemed happier. Although he wore a permanently exhausted expression, she noted he laughed a lot more now and his relationship with Ginny was solid. Maybe the slice of Voldemort in his soul had been weighing him down. Hermione thought it didn’t help that Harry didn’t know any better than to be the saviour of the Wizarding World and here he was again fighting the long fight. The year Ginny had been back at Hogwarts, where the world had been relatively normal and he’d been in Auror training had been particularly tough for him, especially with the new system and the death eaters he’d literally died to save the Wizarding World from just walking free, all because they were rich. 

The Ministry in general didn’t really care that the Death Eaters weren’t locked up in Azkaban, after all, they’d paid their extortionate bail money and they had enough to be getting on with sorting the trials of the ones they had caught and hadn’t been able to pay. The sneaky bit of legislation Kingsley slipped through meant they could Harry and Ron would resume normal Auror work once all were captured and be so much more restricted. For now they were having fun, doing things they’d never normally be able to do and seemed so relaxed for it. Plus it kept them busy enough they didn’t delve into Hermione’s life, leaving her to her little cottage that was her secret refuge. 

Ron groaned at the presence of his best friend, who surely wouldn’t let this lie, and Harry sat down grinning. ‘I think we’re finally going to see the tide turn’ he said hopefully to no one in particular. Hermione patted his hand, understanding straight away. He just wanted a normal life, to live in his house and go to work and come home every day. To that end so did she but she knew her case would be slightly more challenging. She had her own little country house where she lived, that was protected by the fidelius charm and allowed no visitors. She felt safer that way, that no one could betray her and her lifestyle but she wished sometimes she could just have the company of friends at her home. The secrecy weighed her down sometimes but she saw them often enough and it was necessary, for now. 

***

Hermione apparated onto the door step and opened the door, sighing as she did so. Exhausted, filthy and covered in grime she just wanted a shower and her own bed. As much as she hoped she could just slip in unnoticed, she knew an argument was incoming as the thing she said she wouldn’t do again, she’d done again. It was 2am and she was exhausted but figured it was best to get the confrontation over with as she was too tired to react properly. Spotting a chink of flickering light under the living room door, she approached cautiously, pausing outside the door despite the fact she knew he would have heard her footsteps. ‘Gryffindor ’ she muttered to herself, and taking a deep breath she twisted the handle and walked in. 

The man pacing the floor turned at the sound of the door and glared at her for a full five seconds before turning back abruptly and angrily continuing his pacing in front of the warm fire, stomping his feet down as he walked. Hermione slunk quietly into her chair and paused again, watching the flames flicker, before quietly asking ‘how was your evening?’. 

The man stoppped and turned to face her, making her shrink back into her chair at the force of his glare. 

“How was my evening? How was my evening??? You HEXED me’ he bellowed, making her sheepishly look at her toes before her eyes snapped up to meet his in challenge. 

‘I had no choice, you were in the way’ Hermione sighed, pulling her knees up underneath her and summoning her fluffy blanket from the basket next to the fore, figuring she may as well be cosy as she sat through the inevitable barrage of numerous iterations of ‘you hexed me’ she knew would be incoming. Her gaze was still focused on the flickering flames behind him as he ranted away, concentrating on the tendrils of smoke curling their way up the chimney rather than the man stood before her. He’d made it the muggle way she noticed, spotting the matches on the hearth. A small grin teased it’s way out, as the realisation hit she could smell it too. Magical fires typically didn’t have that gorgeous woody smoky smell of a true muggle fire, they were just, well there. She much preferred it this way, the cosy crackling background sound was lovely on this cold night, especially next to the giant green Christmas tree twinkling it’s little lights off in the corner. Eventually he ran down and she repeated her earlier statement calmly. 

‘I know, but God damnit woman you still hexed me. It bloody hurt’ he whinged, stopping his pacing and sinking down on the chair next to her. He’d showered having obviously got home before her and was dressed in soft pyjama trousers and a white T-shirt. It was such an inviting outfit for her to cuddle into, so she did. She switched her direction and lay her head on his shoulder, shifting to get comfortable as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in tight. She thought he smelt delicious, all warm and spice and calm and vanilla and everything she loved about him. No matter what she felt safe here. 

‘Are you ok?’ She asked seriously, staring up at him. He bent his head and pressed his lips to her temple, sighing. 

‘I’m ok but I hate this. And you hexed me woman. You bloody hurt! And I couldn’t even retaliate this time’. 

Hermione giggled, the girlish sound tinkling through the room. He gently tickled her side, making her laugh more until she begged him to stop.

‘Seriously Mi, you need to stop soon’ 

‘ I know. But I can’t just suddenly drop out, and I’m careful. It would look a bit suspicious. I thought you’d give me more grief over hexing you’ she admitted shyly, burying her head deeper and inhaling his smell. 

‘I considered it, but it got you Dolohov and that bastard is best off away from everyone in anyone’s books. I’m still pretty pissed though, I thought we agreed. And you’re a vicious little beast’. 

“I’m glad we got him” she said, sitting in silence. She wasn’t going to apologise, he really and truly got in the way. He stood up and pulled her up with him. 

“Come on, shower. You’re filthy and you look absolutely beat. Would you like any tea? Pinky should be up still?” He asked gently. She shook her head, her gaze catching on a familiar black and silver cloak on the sofa. He noticed her staring and followed her gaze, smiling when he saw what she was looking at. 

“One of your brighter ideas that one my love”.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Please feel free to leave any review. I got the inspiration from a meme I saw online, about a police chief and a mob boss. One shoots the other and mutters “I’m never going to hear the ends of this”.


End file.
